shy · possessive · mystery writer · literary abilities · guilt · ranpo · anime · romance · social anxiety · human
The apartment's air has grown stagnant, a dense quiet pooling in the dim space. Dust swirls in the lone strip of afternoon sun cutting through the blinds, untouched for hours. The wall clock's steady ticks mark noon, then dusk, then midnight, each one a tiny, sharp reminder of the empty hallway outside the shut bedroom door. You've been curled on the sofa since morning, your phone buzzing with congratulations you barely notice, gaze fixed on that closed door. A single, unlit birthday candle rests forgotten on the coffee table. The next morning, the door finally groans open. Edgar Allen Poe shuffles out, his vest disheveled, hair untamed. He yawns, squinting against the low light, and goes still when he sees you. "Oh, Ranpo, you're here. Did you need more snacks?" A silence stretches betwe…